His World's Savior
by Kat Lee formerly Pirate Turner
Summary: The world at large will never know the real Mickey Mouse, but you can take a look at this story and become enlightened.


Title: "His World's Savior"  
>Author: Pirate Turner<br>Rating: G  
>Summary: The world at large will never know the real Mickey Mouse, but you can take a look at this story and become enlightened.<br>Warnings: Mild Het, Real Disney  
>Word Count: 2,386<br>Date Written: 17 April, 2011  
>Disclaimer: Mickey Mouse, Disney, and all other characters and places mentioned within are &amp; TM Disney, not the author; are used without permission; and may not be used without permission. Walt Disney is &amp; TM himself, not the author; is used without permission; and may not be used without permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.<p>He stood alone on top of the second tallest building in the land. The castle still stretched for endless miles on up high, glistening and sparkling in the light of the setting sun, but he'd leave the castle to the girls and the true royalty. He was no royalty, and yet he still felt the weight of the world upon his slender, black shoulders. His friends did not know where he was; even his fiance could not begin to guess the depths of the thoughts whirling through his mind. Yet he would keep it that way forever for he would never burden another soul with the responsibilities he held, which was yet another reason why that fiance would always only remain that and one of his dearest, oldest friends.<p>

His big ears could hear everything up here. He heard all the giggling, talking, and screaming of his guests. He heard the heroes below reciting the plays that earned them their lady loves, the women replaying their heroic parts as well, and the villains snortling as they devised new and ever more devious schemes. He wondered who the next one he would have to best would be, and yet he knew, even as memories of beings far more powerful than he whom he would have to face sooner or later whipped through his mind, that he would come out the winner.

He stood short and yet tall upon the Epcot building, his white-gloved hands perched on his slender hips and his tail sailing proudly in the air behind him. His tail whipped out, cracking about at the gentle breeze. This was his land, his world, and he would always save it! And yet none of those who still lived could ever begin to guess at just how important a role he played here. Sure, they knew him as the lead character, the mascot of the worlds, and some even viewed him as his land's King when he would never really be royalty and the only crowns he'd ever worn had been to play the roles handed him.

Yet, for every one who loved him, there were still those who hated him. The villains all despised him, of course, and whereas they might sometimes frighten him, they never truly hurt his heart. He was accustomed to being considered too much of a good guy, of a "goody two shoes" as Pete persistently called him. He understood why the cats, from Thomas O'Malley; his friend, Scat Cat; and their gang of alley cats to another King who would never fully get the title he deserved, Salem Saberhagen; all the way to the big, royal cats, like Mufasa and Simba, and the dark Shere Khan, view him as a meal upon which they could scarcely wait to chomp.

The villains did not bother him; he was used to the cats. Those who viewed him with envy also did little to faze him. After all, all they saw in him was the most renowned character of their worlds and they had no clue of the burdens he bore, so why should they not want to be him themselves? No, it was the fans who didn't understand him who bothered him. It was those who thought he had too big an ego for a little mouse who cut him to the core for Mickey knew, he reflected, his long, wiry tail cracking like a whip in the cool air surrounding him, that he had every right to an ego even taller than the building upon which he stood.

He had every right to think that the sun rose and set because of him for this entire world - all his friends, family, neighbors, acquaintances, and even the villains themselves - would not be here without him. None of this would exist if not for him, but of course, the world did not know that. The world at large could never begin to think that he was the reason why they had all been created, that he was the Muse of their creator. They would never think that a small mouse such as he had been completely instrumental in all that stretched before him, in all the lands stretching as far as his beady eyes could see, and especially not in all the various souls that dotted the landscape and called these worlds their home. They couldn't know that none of this would have existed without him, and yet Mickey knew and remembered well how it had all come about.

He remembered now yet again, with a sad, crooked smile and a down-turned twist of his long tail, when he had first met the creator and changed both their lives forever. He had been on a mission and had, for years, been seeking just the right candidate to help him fulfill that mission. Walt had caught his eye as soon as he'd been born, and yet Mickey had had to wait for the boy to grow older before approaching him. He had had to wait until he thought Walt was ready for his destiny, and during that time, he had watched over him and secretly come to admire him.

Walt had always wanted to change the world. He had seen the hardships and sorrow in his people from even an early age. He had ached to make their lives better and yet had not known how to do so. He had investigated an array of fields, wanting to be a doctor, a lawyer, an adventurer, a scientist, many more things, and sometimes even more than one at a time, but Mickey had always known what he was meant to be. He had watched him from the shadows, spoke to him in his dreams, and waited . . . waited, with the patience of the Saint that some thought him to be even to this day, for Walt to become ready to accept that destiny.

And then, one dusky afternoon, he had stepped from the shadows and walked out into the light before Walt's startled eyes. Mickey's large ears still rang with the screams of his deceased friend. He had never seen any one run that fast before, but then again, he had never revealed himself to any human who was not already tainted with what they called booze. Never before had a serious, solemn mind set eyes upon him, and it had taken both he and Walt quite some time to climb pass Walt's fear and form a friendship that had at first been shaky but had soon grown to be a legend in and of itself.

Mickey remembered modeling for Walt and helping the cartoonist to slowly become a better artist. It had taken hours to develop his skill, but Walt had still held some of the greatest potential of any artist within him and had eventually grown pass his fear to be able to draw Mickey into full, if even just black and white, life. Mickey had slowly brought his other friends out for the cartoonist to look at, and he had been only the first of thousands that Walt had come to draw.

He had brought all his friends to life, but they had not stopped there. One by one, Mickey had shown him all of the characters from his dying, fading world, both heroes and villains, not allowing a one to slide through the cracks, and still to this day, with the artists left in his dear Walt's wake, Mickey continued to bring forward his people from their dimension that was slowly but steadily closing to live a new life in the magical lands that he and Walt had created for them.

Here they lived their lives anew, and their worlds were as glistening as they'd ever been before the dark days had started sneaking in on them. Mickey had saved all of those who waltzed, flew, journeyed, crept, and even slithered their way through the lands of Disney, and yet, still, there were hundreds more awaiting his call to life through the pens of the Disney artists. Feeling suddenly very heavy and tired, Mickey threw himself down to a sitting position on top of the Epcot studio. He laid his head in his cupped hands and sighed greatly.

Never had a job been more important than that which he played, the Pauper with the power of Kings who brought to life those who wore the crowns he would never wield, the street rats, the little fish, and every being in between. He missed Walt. They had done so much good work together, and there was a hollow hole in his life where his best and oldest friend had been. He would always miss Walt, but he still had a job to do. It was a job, Mickey thought, that seemed utterly endless at times. There were so many lives to save, so many lands and worlds to rescue, and yet he was only just a mouse.

A mouse with the weight of the world on his shoulders, he thought, more so than any one else would ever know. A mouse who every one who lived here looked up to, even if they refused to acknowledge that respect, for they knew that he was the first to come to life into this new world through the magic of Walt's pen and that all of them had followed after he had taken those first bold and blazing steps into a new universe, new lives for them all. He had paved the way, and they had eagerly followed. Yet none of them ever dared to speak a word about it lest the outsiders learn just how magical this land of recovery, rejuvenation, beauty, spirit, and, yes, magick was.

They still feared being discovered for the beings they truly were instead of the creations the Earthlings saw them to be, but that was one discovery Mickey would never let happen. He would do whatever he had to to protect his people. He always had and always would, even to the most vile of villains like Pete, Ursula, and Hades, to the smallest of lives, such as Gus, Nemo, and Slinky Dog. He'd not let a one of them be lost by the wayside or discovered to be a creature that would have every scientist in this new world trying to tear them apart.

Mickey's mouth twisted into a partial grin at that thought. Even their scientists understood magick and respected the lives they had been given. Not even Ludwig, with all his crazy, scientific thoughts, would ever dream of ripping apart a subject to learn just how they ticked, how they lived, and yet Mickey knew that that was exactly what would happen if any one in the outside world ever learned the role that he'd truly played in bringing all of his friends, all his people and their worlds, to life here in the land that was supposed to be based on pure make believe and fantasy, Disney.

Disney had kept his secret as had every artist to work here ever since. There had been a few who had thought they could make money on the reality, but Mickey had always learned about them before they could spill his people's secrets and had, with a heavy soul and trembling hand, laid those artists and others who would reveal their secrets over to Ursula for her garden. He'd do whatever it took to keep his people safe, even if it meant being a villain himself.

Mickey's ears perked up as he heard Pluto barking and Minnie, Donald, and Goofy calling his name. Most of his people loved him, but there were still those who hated, feared, envied, and rejected him. He could live with the hatred, fear, and envy; it was those who rejected him for having too much of an ego who cut him to the quick, those who felt that he had no right to throw his name into the proverbial pot with some of the others who called Disney their home. None of them would even be here without him, Mickey reflected, but then he couldn't tell his fans that. He could only look the other way, let them have their own personal favorites and think what they would of him, while he continued to strive with all the might of his heart, soul, and mind for a better tomorrow.

And that was exactly what Disney was all about, Mickey thought, climbing down from the Epcot studios. Coming here to Florida and California and creating these lands was to give his people a better tomorrow, to save the peoples and worlds of his dimension, and now, together, through the blessed, magickal pen of the greatest man Mickey had ever known and his own unending work and unyielding heart, they would last forever and sail into the brightest futures they'd ever known hand in hand, arm in arm, heart in heart.

He landed on the ground and called to his friends. "Hey, guys! Here I am!"

They turned together, and Mickey saw the worry reflected in their eyes. Pluto yipped joyously and rushed forward, greeting him with an excited tongue and doggy kisses. Then he was surrounded by the rest of his dearest friends, his family, as they hugged him tightly. Not a one of them spoke of their worry for him, but Mickey understood nonetheless and was quick to assure them that he was fine and to take charge once more, leading them onward together to their next show.

Today was the anniversary of his best friend's death, and yet, as with every day at Disney, it was also the mark of a brand new day, a new page in the never-ending storybook of life, and Mickey was determined that the next page, the next, and the next after that, forever and ever, would always be more brightly shining and better than the last. He would carve out their happily ever afters with his own bare hands, if need be, and he would make sure that his people had nothing but the brightest of futures together. After all, he thought, smiling, and walking into the sunset with his friends lined up on one side and Pluto and Walt's ghost on his other, that was what real magick was all about.

**The End**


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